Post-Holiday Ravings

     

Hi, Friends & Fam,

I was feeling like a real slacker posting a Christmas blog in February, but somehow my readers usually turn out to be  even bigger slackers than I am.. that's what prompted me to go ahead and post this blog which I've had half-written since early January.  A certain member of my family  just informed me that  their Christmas tree was taken down yesterday, so I felt empowered.  And just in case you still haven't gotten around to taking those pesky lights off your front porch, sit down, put your feet up, and waste a little time with me.   Why rush into things?

NEWS FLASH!!  Just received a text from Nancy.  Wanna hear it? Here it is:"I only have one bra we need to go shopping soon!" Isn't motherhood grand?  So, if you have any old bras, please send them her way.   Feel free to take her shopping, too.  (Note:  this really annoyed her, so I am doing my motherly job. )

Now, back to Christmas...

  Growing up, my holiday chore included taking drink orders -- iced tea or 7-up (only available on Thanksgiving and Christmas, of course!). Sometimes I also had to unload the dishwasher, but I protested so much about that unfair imposition on my time that I often got out of it.  Consequently, I am totally unqualified to do much of anything but hang around and have a good time.  And I am very good at that.    But a few times a year -- Christmas being one of those times -  I must rise from my chair and attempt to prepare a feast for my family.  Things don't always go smoothly...


   If you are a long time Tiztalk fan, you know that if I were an actress, no one would need to show me how to do pratfalls for the big laugh – I’m a natural. This year at Christmas  I proved my mettle once again. I managed to slosh a batch of defrosted raw turkey blood all over my kitchen counter, my nice Christmas dish towel, and, of course, myself. A little raw poultry juice never hurt anyone, right? Then I almost made it to the fridge without sloshing the red Jello (note: the trick is NOT to look at the pan). However, I blinked or maybe my nose itched; I’ll never know. I lost my concentration and got to clean up red Jello from the fridge drawers, counter, floor, and even from underneath the fridge. But, hey, what else did I have to do on Christmas?

           

Worst of all,  my children had the audacity to complain about their unanimous favorite dessert that I make. As I walked in the door following my 300 mile trip home from Illinois, Molly greeted me with these words: “Mom, there’s hair in the lemon squares.” Mind you, this minor flaw didn’t keep any of them from eating each and every one of them, but they seemed to delight in pulling out a hair each time one was consumed. I’m not quite sure how the hair got in there, but since they made such a big deal out of it, I decided to memoralize it with this little ditty:

To me it’s not fair;

I wasn’t there.

They can’t prove a thing

But their words still sting.

I was accosted the moment I walked in the door.

You’d think they’d never seen their mother before. 

They couldn’t wait to fill my ears

with words that might bring other mothers to tears.
 

They gleefully, evilly recounted their tale,

of something they’d found that made them wail. 

In front of my new son-in-law Cody,

they made me look downright nasty and grody.

There was a little problem, you see; 

they pointed their fingers directly at me.

What they’d found was long and dark and frizzy; 

It could only belong to someone named Tizzie. 

Tim spouted off, “I found a hair.”

Molly chimed in, “in a lemon square.” 

Megan admitted, “I did, too."

Then Nancy whined , “I didn’t know what to do.”

Now, mind you, it didn’t stop them a bit

They just pulled out the hair and went on with it.

They scarfed down the lemon squares - every last one,

then picked on me just for fun.

At my age, I'm glad I still have hair.

I've never mentioned THEIR hair that I find everywhere....

So, friends and family,  please beware.

Carefully inspect your lemon squre.

And if you find a hair in there,

Tell someone who gives a care.

Hairy & merry
I remain

Tiz/Tizzie/Tizmom/Mom/Liz/Elizabeth

P.S.  If I knew how to make all the fonts the same, I would.  They are not that way for effect -- just due to my ignorance and laziness.